Not in Wonderland Alice's Story
by SteneMichele
Summary: When Alice is wrongly sentenced to an insane asylum, she never expects to fall for anybody. What happens when she stumbles across a breathtakingly handsome, mysterious man named James, who happens to be keeping some secrets? Canon pairings in the end!
1. Alice: The Asylum

**A/N: This story was written with randomuser674. Check out her stories! In case you didn't realize, this is Alice's POV. Thanks again to randomuser674!**

The woman in the taxi was old. She wore heavy-rimmed glasses and she was endlessly smiling at me. Her hair was bee-hive style, the kind that my father always insisted I should have. It was the kind of style that made me want to vomit, and I was much happier with my simple black haircut.

When we reached Biloxi, the woman placed her hand on my knee and smiled reassuringly at me.

"Now, don't be sad, darling," she cooed, as if talking to a five-year-old child. "Your mommy and daddy will visit very often. Who knows? You may be out of here very soon." I smiled sweetly, fighting a grimace. Soon after, the taxi came to an abrupt stop outside of a tall concrete building. There were no flowers. There was no white picket fence. The only birds were pigeons, and the windows had iron bars on them.

I pressed my nose again the cold glass, enjoying the chill that it sent down my body. I didn't move at first, as the taxi driver got out of the driver's seat and tentatively opened my door. The woman in the glasses was smiling down at me, holding an over-sized purse. The air from outside flew into the small taxi, ruffling my long black hair. I pushed it out of my face, accepting the driver's gloved hand as he helped me out of the car. The man seemed tentative to touch me; he had probably heard of my insanity from the social workers. Or maybe even my own father. Yes, probably the latter. My father was never reserved while talking about my "little problem". That was what he called it in company, right before he spit out a cruel joke about fortune-tellers and the mentally challenged. I didn't mind, however. He could talk about me all that he wanted and I would keep my chin high. It was the times that he was extremely drunk that bothered me- when he would hit my sister over and over. The picture has haunted me for years now, her small face filled with agony as he threw her against the wall... her thrashing body as blood poured onto the concrete...

I shivered, refusing to let those memories bother me here. I had to prove myself. I had to prove to the doctors that I _was _normal, so that I could go home and take care of my siblings.

"Welcome to your new home, dear," the spectacled social worker exclaimed, gesturing to the prison-like building behind her as if pointing to a castle. This time I really did grimace. There was no point in pretending to be happy. My father had stolen _that _aspect of me the first night after my mother had taken her life.

Apprehensively, I followed the woman into the building. I could hear the wheels of the taxi spurring wildly as it made its escape. That cab driver did not know how lucky he was to be leaving this place. I may very well spend the rest of my life withering away here. I closed me eyes, trying to picture my future. But it was blank.

The room that we walked into was large and, for the most part, unfurnished. There was a marble floor and a large cathedral ceiling. Other than the social worker, who I suddenly remembered was named Ms. Vreeland, there was only one person in the room. She was sitting behind the desk, and she was young and pretty in a cliché way. Ms. Vreeland and I walked over to the woman, dragging my small trunk behind us.

"Hello," the woman said in a professional, crisp voice. "Can I be of service?" I could feel both of their eyes on me, so I fixated my own eyes on her nameplate. Vera Adams. A nice, simple name.

"Yes, my name is Anne Vreeland," Ms. Vreeland explained. "I sent a telegram earlier this week explaining the situation of a young girl named Mary." I jumped, not custom to being referred to as 'Mary'.

"They call me 'Alice'," I reminded the woman, and Ms. Vreeland smiled patronizingly.

"Of course they do, _Alice," _she muttered, biting her bottom lip. She didn't believe me. "Anyway," Ms. Vreeland continued, turning back to the woman at the desk. "I sent a telegram. This is Mary Alice Brandon, and she is being checked in to the pediatric ward today." I sighed, annoyed with the term 'pediatric'. I was seventeen, and I had spent my whole childhood anticipating the day that I turned eighteen and became a legal adult. But my father had gotten tired of me eleven months before my birthday, and I was still under his rule.

"Yes, of course," Vera Adams replied, casting me a pearly white smile that I only returned half-heartedly. "With the visions, how could I forget?" Her voice was good-hearted, but I could see the acid in her eyes. As if cued, an image of a person that I had never seen before appeared in my mind. He was handsome, with cropped blonde hair and eyes the color of fresh-cut roses. I barely noticed these little details, however, for I was completely swallowed by his inhuman beauty. Before I could scrutinize my laser vision any further, Ms. Vreeland's hand was on my shoulder.

"Did you hear the nice woman, Mary?" she asked. "You can go unpack your things now. She will show you the way."

I blinked in astonishment as Vera stood up from her desk and pursed her lips. My stomach heaved a little bit, but I composed myself and wound a trembling hand around the handle of my trunk.

"Can you handle it, Mary Alice?" Vera asked, scrutinizing my petite stature. I nodded, pulling my luggage a couple of inches to prove that I could.

"Just Alice," I reminded her, trying to conceal a sigh of exasperation. Vera opened her mouth but then shut it as if she had debating whether or not to say anything. She decided not to, which left Ms. Vreeland and I to say farewells after our short meeting.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you, Alice," she said, holding out her hand. I shook her hand, apprehensive about seeing my room. Will I have some roommate who starts fires, or eats people, or some actual crazy person? I'm not crazy. I can't control what I do. I see things and they happen. _This means... _I thought, thinking back to the inhumane beauty of that man. _I shall soon be seeing him._

I followed Vera down the plain white corridor until she reached a door at the very end. 26A, it was labeled. I held my breath as she unlocked the door, and then pushed it open. It was not a very homey room. One cot, one iron-barred window, one small side-table, and one chair were all that sat within it. I let my trunk drop to the floor, emitting an ominous boom that echoed around the hollow room.

"I'll let you unpack," she said, leaving the room. I heard the door shut behind me. _Click._ The door locked. I sighed. I would have to be locked in here until I could prove I really was sane. I _had _to return home to my sisters. What would Father do to them?

I unpacked the few belongings that I'd brought with me; a hairbrush and the doll that Mother had made me before she'd passed. I put them on the small table before collapsing into my cot. How ironic, that I would probably end up going _insane_ here.


	2. James: The Scent

The wailing always starts around dusk. At first all you hear is a few whimpers. Gradually, they build up into full-blown sobs. Ever since I started working at Biloxi I'd heard those cries, echoing from the patients' rooms. Behind locked doors and iron bars they drowned in their sorrows.

I love those cries. They remind me that they're only weak, powerless humans. That _I _am superior. It gives me pleasure to watch them suffer until their last moments. That's when I make my move. I'm "helping" them stop their suffering.

But one patient was different from the others. She was not crazy. She would not cry. She'd lay on her cot and stare at the ceiling, a blank look on her face. As I peered through the bars on the door of 26A, I'd noticed her blank look would become still and echo shock for a few minutes, then change back to an emotionless stare.

It annoyed me to immense amounts that she would not give in. One night I decided to see what was going on.

"Hello, Mary, I'm Dr. Michaels," I said, using my alias, as I unlocked her door.  
Annoyance flickered across her face, soon replaced by shock and awe when she'd seen who I was.

"Y-you're--I've seen--" she stuttered, but then she fell silent, her eyes glazing over once more.

She was not anything special. Her black hair hung flat and boring around her tiny face. She had only been here for a couple of days at the most, but her skin was already sallow. The girl, who had resigned to merely staring at me with her wide blue eyes, was certainly nothing to look at... but her mere presence captivated me. Maybe it wasn't her presence as much as it was her _scent_. Yes, that was it. The taste of her warm aroma made my throat feel as dry as the Sahara Desert. It was crisp and clean, as if I was by the coast. If I hadn't stolen half of the blood supply in the hemodialysis department earlier today, I wouldn't have been able to resist. But I did, because I was strong.

"Are you feeling alright, Mary?" I asked, trying to make my voice gentle. The girl rolled over onto her side and nodded, her mouth falling open into a comical 'O'.

"It's Alice," she whispered, her voice light, like wind chimes in the air. I jumped at the sound; It sounded as harmonic as a vampire's, but she was definitely human. Yes, she was more human than any of the others here. And to make it worse, she had an innocent look about her. I was never one for sympathy, however, but it made it a lot more fun when I took the life of somebody who thought a lot of themselves.

"It says here 'Mary Brandon'," I replied, skeptical. It was such a human thing- doing trivial things such as changing names. I only changed my name for convenience sake, to prevent suspicion.

"Yes, my name is Mary Alice Brandon," the girl muttered, pulling a horrid rag doll off of her nightstand and cradling it under her chin as if she were a toddler. I refrained from rolling my eyes. I was no where near compassionate enough to be in the mental health business.

"Would you like your dinner now, _Alice_?" I asked, whipping a styrofoam tray off of the cart. What a foolish girl. She had yet to stop staring, and her eyes were boring holes into my soul. Of course, I use the term 'soul' extremely lightly.

"Oh, I'm not hungry," Alice replied, staring at the food tray apprehensively. I smirked, turning on my charm.

"Ah, I see," I muttered. So _that _was why she was here. It was a new fad very popular amongst the young adults- anorexia. That was why I could not detect any signs of madness from this little girl. "You're probably smart anyway. This food isn't the best. Could I bring you anything else?" Alice shook her head, only moving slightly. It took will power that I never thought that I had to leave that room, and even in the hallway... Her scent followed me. I didn't think that I would be able to go home tonight without taking this girl with me.

But like I said before- I am strong. Humans have no control over me. It is my sole purpose in life to control the human population, and the captivating blue eyes of some little girl was certainly not going to stop me from performing my duties. Call me sadistic or bellicose; I do not care.

As I made my way down the barren hallway, I heard the wailing again. Only this time, it was coming from room 26A as well.


	3. Alice: The Doctor

I opened my eyes. The sunlight was slowly creeping through my window. I was pretty tired, being up crying half the night and all. Tear tracks still etched their ghosts upon my sallow, pasty face. I could still taste the salt.

Who was that man, Dr. Michaels? Why did he leave such an impact on me? His beauty was not all that captivated me. I sensed something deeper, though I could not place what it was.

His eyes were startling. They had crimson irises, as though dripping with blood. Out of all of his features, his eyes seemed to have burned themselves into my mind. They had been... so deep and never-ending. Human eyes had one sole purpose- to see. But Dr. Michaels, who looked like a statue of Adonis, had eyes that could hold my attention for hours. And they were _frightening_, which excited me.

Suddenly, the door _click!_ed, yanking me out of my reverie. I jumped. Could it be? Was he coming back?

No. The door opened and a middle-aged woman walked in. She had auburn hair tied in a long plait down her back aand tawny hazel eyes. On her face a kind smile was plastered, but her eyes showed signs of nevousness. Right. I'm the crazy girl with the visions.

"Good morning, Mary," she said, her smile still glued to her face. Ugh, the whole "Alice, not Mary" argument was about to come, and, quite frankly, it was getting old.

"Good morning," I muttered, my voice cracking a bit from lack of use. The woman placed a faded book with large letters on my nightstand.

"My name is Dr. Reilly," she said pleasantly, and I had to admit that I was shocked. Women in hospitals were one of two things- nurses or secretaries. It was the 1920's, and women had not become acustom to the role of 'Doctor'. "I will be visiting with you every other evening for the duration of your stay here. We are going to become very good friends, Mary." _Uh oh. _I put on the best smile that I could manage and pulled myself up in bed, trying not to act rudely.

"Actually," I began, for the tenth time that day, "I prefer 'Alice'." Dr. Reilly smiled at me, her hazel eyes confused.

"It says-" she replied, glancing down at her clipbord, but I interrupted her.

"I know," I blurted out. "It says _Mary Brandon_. But I'm not Mary. I'm Alice." The woman seemed pleased with my answer.

"That's a nice place to start," she pointed out, "If we're going to get to know eachother well, then I should know the meaning behind your name." I considered her question. I had begun calling myself 'Alice' the day after my first vision. I had been six years old, and it had only been half of a vision. Well, it hadn't really been a _vision _at all. It had been a voice, and just my eyes. The most beautiful voice in the world, a man's voice, had whispered 'Alice, I am going hunting this weekend." I had ignored the voice for a while, unsure what it had meant. My father had hunted some, but I had always detested it when he brought home the bucks. Their eyes had bothered me; they had been so... so _empty._ It was as if these poor animals, for the thrill of the game, had been robbed of their lives, and they were hallow and transparent like an infant. But the 'hunting' part had not bothered me that much. It was nothing compared to the voice. That voice, it was like silk. Velvet, even. I had thrived on that voice for ages, until the visions started coming more frequently.

"I don't like 'Mary'," I replied simply, and Dr. Reilly frowned in dissapointment.

"That's not a reason to change a name," she rebutted, furrowing her brow, "Miss Brandon, it is my job to uncover deep psychiatric problems, and I cannot do that without your honesty." I bit my lip, rarely angered. I had never had much of a temper.

"You won't believe me if I'm honest," I argued, pulling my raven black hair off of my neck. "Nobody does." Dr. Reilly reached out, touching my knee consolingly. I jumped at her touch, startled. I was not used to soft pats on the knee; my father had always resorted to fierce blows to the face.

"Alice, I_ will _believe you," she replied, and then seemed to rethink her thought. "Well, if I don't, then we'll fix that problem. That's what your here for, sweetie. We're going to fix your problem." I tried not to laugh. _Fix my problem? _I _liked _my 'problem'. It was a part of me, a part of who I am.

"Alice, honey, we're out of time for today." Dr. Reilly said sadly. "I hope you will trust me enough to tell me why."

As she started to stand up, I suddenly remembered something.

"Wait," I said. She turned back to me. "Who is Dr. Michaels?"

Dr. Reilly looked me in the eyes and replied, "Sweetie, there _is_ no Dr. Michaels."

With that she locked me in my room and left me to deal with the fact that I might really be crazy.


	4. James: The Kill

11 o'clock on Wednesday found me huddled in an emergency supply closet, arguing in hushed tones with Veronica Mayes. She was a night shift nurse, and my sole accomplice in the hospital. I didn't care much for the woman. She was whiny and simple-minded, but she did what she was told. In my book, that was all that mattered.

"Jesus, Veronica," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I asked _one _thing of you. All that I needed was back-up. I'm only here for two hours every night; you could at least help me blend in while I'm here." Veronica, who was a relatively plain woman with a crooked nose and shallow brown eyes, frowned. This was what I liked about her; she detested disappointing me.

"I'm trying, Mr. Michaels," she insisted, taking a step closer to me. "It's no help, though, that you won't tell me _why _you're here." I sighed, backing up against the emergency catheters and syringes. Veronica would have to die, eventually. She did not smell particularly pleasing, but she would do.

"There's not a big secret," I lied, easily fooling the dim-witted woman. "I need some money, and I do not have the time to go back to university." Veronica eyed me skeptically, placing her fleshy hand on my cheek. I resisted the urge to step away; I needed her unfaltering devotion if my plan was going to work.

"But you're so _smart, _Dr.," she cooed, leaning in and breathing in. I glanced up at the ceiling desperately, ignoring the dryness in my throat.

"Damnit, Veronica," I groaned. "I'm not a doctor." Veronica let out a cackling laugh that made me sick to my stomach. Why did all of the humans have to be so unbearably aggravating?

"So modest," she whispered, hitching her right leg around my thigh. I froze. I could only pretend for so long... and this was pushing it.

"Look, Veronica," I muttered, pulling her hand off of my face and stepping away from her suggestive position. "This is not going to work unless you help me out. I need you to cover for me. Got it?" The ugly nurse pouted, making me want to vomit. Humans were so ridiculous, yet so easy to please.

"So, what you're saying is... If I get you the night shift for the rest of the week, you'll be more..." She let her voice trail off, tracing the contours of my chest with her index finger and smiling provocatively. I gulped, pulling my lab coat tighter around me.

"I suppose we could make that work," I agreed warily, bowing my head. Veronica let out a nasally laugh as I threw the closet door open, gratefully inhaling the uncontaminated air. Room 26A was locked and quarantined for the night, so I took advantage of my free time. It was time to hunt.

In room 421, on the fifth floor, there lived an extremely senile old man named Rodgers. He spent most of his time shouting at non-existent people, and he smelled like a fresh T-bone steak... simply _mouth-watering. _

Easily enough, I lured the 5th floor nurse to the fourth floor undetected. How easily I could wrap them around my finger... Robert Rodgers was in his bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling, when I walked in.

"Good evening, Mr. Rodgers," I muttered briskly. The foolish human did not turn his head. _Damn._ I enjoyed seeing the rush of terror in their eyes as they realized what I was... what I could _do._

I closed the door again, with more vigor this time. _Click!_ The noise startled Rodgers. He awoke from his trance-like state and stared me straight in the eye. I could see the fear filling his every wrinkle.

I crossed the distance between us in less than half a second. I wondered what it must have looked like to the elderly man. It was like I had disappeared and reappeared somewhere else, I decided. Terror twisted around his features, confirming my thought.

"Please..." he pleaded. I laughed, more of a snarl than a giggle. It was always the senile ones that sensed what I was- _who I was._

"Don't worry, Mr. Rodgers, everything will be _just fine,_"I said in my most evil voice. I leaned closer to him, teeth bared in a deranged smile. He attempted to crawl away, but that was no problem. I lifted him above the floor by his neck. He struggled and gasped for air, attempting to pry my fingers off of his throat. I threw him against the opposite wall, hearing a loud crack emit from his crumpled form. He was coughing up blood, and I could resist no longer. I moved in for the kill.

Ah... this was my favorite part. I was finished toying around with the fear of a meaningless human, and my patience was being rewarded. Slowly yet desperately, I leaned in and pressed my teeth to his neck, savoring the rich taste of the man's blood. It was like the finest century-old gin... mouthwatering and timeless.

After disposing carefully of the body, I took off into the night. I left a box of chocolates on Veronica's desk, but only to ensure that I had her trust for next week, when I would choose my next victim. Another day had passed, and another life was gone.

With the pride of a job well done, I flew off to my sanctuary to wait out another never-ending night.


	5. Alice: The Church

I walked into the old church, sandwiched between two doctors. The hospital was allowing the patients to go to church each Sunday, only if we were accompanied by doctors. I've never really been very religious. I'm the kind of person who believes in more than life itself, you know? No creator gods, just...somewhere after death. We were seated in the wooden pews. We'd been allowed to wear real clothes, instead of the old hospital gowns we had to wear. I hadn't been to church since Mother had died. Being here made me feel depressed.

_"Deus habito intus nos totus."_ God dwells within us all. The mass was only in Latin. I couldn't understand a thing, at least not until I was who I am now. I've had decades to learn new languages, such as Arabic, Korean Sign Language and, of course, Latin. It was still better than Biloxi Asylum, though.

I looked at the people around me. I vaguely knew some of them. Mr. Cedar, a teacher at my school, Mrs. Glenburg, the crazy cat woman. People gave the asylum patients very much space. It was as though we had a large, invisible bubble around us that nobody could penetrate.

I turned my attention back to the sermon. The priest was droning away in Latin. At least the music was pretty.

_"Benedictus qui venit  
in nomine Domini,  
Benedictus qui venit  
in nomine Domini.  
Hosanna, hosanna,  
hosanna in excelsis!"_

After several minutes of this, I began to study the people around me. They did not look crazy. Was it possible to _look_ crazy? Though they all looked different, there was something eerily similar in each of them. They all had wide, vacant eyes as if they were looking, but they weren't _seeing. _Subconsciously, I wondered if _I _looked like that. The thought saddened me. I had barely been here for a day and already they were changing me? I did not want to be changed... I had always been quiet little Alice with the never-ending blue eyes. That was me, it always had been.

Suddenly, a warm tap on the shoulder brought me out of my reverie. I spun around, expecting to see Dr. Reilly. But it wasn't. Standing next to me was an elderly man with eyes the color of liquid gold and a face draped with wrinkles. He seemed to radiate kindness, and he was... _beautiful, _almost. He had to be at least 80 years old, but his charm pulled me in at once, like the grandfather that I had never had.

"Alice," he muttered, being the first person to get my name right on the first try. I grimaced, taken aback by his soft, tender voice.

"Yes, I'm Alice," I replied, though he seemed to know that already. The man grinned, holding out his hand politely. For an elderly man, he was astonishingly agile.

"My name is Rudolphus Blairdorf," he said good-heartedly. "But you can call me Rudy." I blinked, shaking his icy-cold hand.

"Who are you?" I asked, too amazed to be polite. Rudy let out a light laugh that made me smile inexplicably.

"I apologize," he responded. "I'm _Dr. _Blairdorf. I do not like to use my official title, you see. Quite stuffy, I think. But anyway, I stumbled across your records the other night and, though I'm not assigned to you, I must admit that it peaked my curiosity." I blushed, glancing down at my tiny hands. Great. Now I was a "curious" freak show.

"What were you curious about?" I demanded, slightly annoyed. Rudy seemed to find great amusement in my aggravation.

"Just _you _in general," he explained. "Would you like to go discuss your situation in the parlor?" I was taken aback by his offer.

"Shouldn't I see some sort of identification first?" I asked. Rudy smiled genuinely, pulling a faded ID card out of his breast pocket. Damn.

"So is that a 'yes', Miss Alice?" he persisted. I pursed my lips and nodded, following the strange man out into the hallway.

In the parlor, thankfully, there were no other people. I waited.

"Alice," he began. "I've noticed many people don't take you seriously when you talk about your visions."

"Of course they don't. I'm crazy, aren't I?"

"Well, I for one, believe you."

Shock pulsed through my veins. Nobody, _nobody_ had ever actually believed me. They just thought I was crazy. Could this man really be telling the truth?

"I do not want to 'fix your problem' as many other doctors do. It's not a problem, it's a gift. Tell me, what are these visions like?"

"I-well- they're all different," I spluttered. "Usually I see people or places I've never seen before in my life. A short time later, the visions come true."

"I see," he murmured. "I believe you have had an extraordinary talent placed upon you. It's almost...supernatural." He placed emphasis on that last word, his golden eyes boring into mine.

"What do you-" The congregation started filing out of the church.

"I have to leave now, but I will talk to you again soon," Rudy said hurriedly.

A person bumped into me. I turned to glare at them.

But when I turned back to Rudy, he was gone. As if he never was even there.


	6. James: The Anger

Veronica had forged me some work papers last night, so I was free to explore the asylum at my own will for the time being. I did not enjoy spending so much time around these maniacs, but there was an unlimited supply of sustenance in the blood dock in the cellar. However, I had to make _some _sort of an attempt to fit in here, so I resorted to exploring the most intriguing rooms of the hospital at night. One of these rooms was 26A. It was the young girl named Mary who went by the name 'Alice'. She was the one that stared at the ceiling endlessly, her crisp scent light and refreshing.

When I arrived at that last room on the third floor, however, I was surprised to realize that she was not alone. Through the keyhole, I could recognize an old man talking to her. My dormant heart stopped beating; it was Rudolphus Blairdorf. He was elderly. He was wise. He was also a vampire.

I had hated Rudy since the moment that I arrived here. He was the only one who saw me for what I was- a killer. He recognized my presence immediately, but he did not want to startle Alice. He continued talking to her, but I had trouble concentrating. All that I noticed was the anger welling up inside of me like a time bomb just waiting to explode. My inexplicable fury was completely unjustifiable, because the passionate emotion was anxious that Rudolphus would _hurt _the girl. A part of it stemmed from my arrogance; after all, this girl was _mine. _I had dibs on her succulent scent, and this strange vampire, despite his ridiculous eating habits, was not safe company for the girl. But the greater part of my anger came from an uncharacteristic fondness for the girl. This thought perturbed me, for I was not the kind of person to befriend my food. After all, I had grown up on a farm where my naive human mother had always warned me not to name the chickens because then I might feel odd eating them. She did not know how correct she was; it was much easier not to know anything about my victims. It was just easier that way.

But this_ girl_, this insignificant little _human_, captured me so much that I just _had_ to find out what was going on. It was an unhealthy bond, one I refused to accept, yet at the same time intrigued me. I strained my ears to hear parts of the conversation in room 26A.

"...visions..."

"...see the future..."

"...know what will happen..."

I listened closer.

"...is not who he seems. He is much darker than he might appear."

That stupid old man was going to ruin everything! I had to stop him! Thinking fast, I grabbed some random pills from a storage room and hurried back to the door. Quickly, I composed myself into a more relaxed state, and entered the room. Both jumped at my arrival.

"I'm here to give Alice her pills," I stated, holding up my "proof". "I think you should leave now, Doctor. Alice needs her rest."

"Why, er, yes. Yes she does." Rudy agreed, casting an anxious glance at the girl.

"Sleep tight, Alice..." he said, shutting the door again.

The human stared at me, still a bit of awe in her eyes, but more of a nervous look about her.

"I won't hurt you, Alice. Dr. Blairdorf, on the other hand..." I let the sentence hang.

She stared at me intently.

"He is...not right in the mind. He is not crazy enough to be a patient here, but he is not far from it. Always think twice before you do something he asks. He might be luring you into a trap." I made this all up on the spot, but the silly human was oblivious to this.

"Feel free to talk to me anytime, Alice. I'll be here most nights." With that I left the room, cursing myself. I had befriended a chicken and named it Alice. How hard would it be to eat her now?


	7. Alice: The Friend

With Rudy at my heels, I walked through my doorway and fell into a small heap on my cot. Rudy settled himself into the large armchair across from me, folding his hands in his lap. For a moment, I merely watched him watch me. There was an ominous feeling in the air, as if the secrets of this man had settled themselves in the air. He was waiting.

"Well," I started. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me what it's like to have one of your visions. How does it feel, emotionally and physically?"

"Um...well, when I have a vision, I tend to become numb. I can't see or hear anything outside the vision. It was really scary at first, but I now realize that they are more interesting than frightful."

"What do you see in these visions?"

"Like I said before, usually I see people or places I've never seen before in my life. Then some time later the visions come true."

"I see..." Suddenly he became very tense, as if he were an animal preparing to pounce. Something flashed across his eyes, something that I could not read. He began speaking again, this time very quickly.

"People don't believe you when you tell them about your visions."

"No, they don't believe I can see the future."

"But you know what will happen."

"Yes."

Rudy suddenly dropped his voice to a whisper, barely audible. "Do you know about Dr. Michaels?"

I was startled. "People said he didn't exist!"

"But have you seen him?" he whispered urgently.

"Yes, I have, but-"

"Dr. Michaels is not who he seems. He is much darker than he might appear."

The door burst open and -speak of the devil!- there stood Dr. Michaels holding a bottle of pills.

"I'm here to give Alice her pills," he stated, holding up the bottle. "I think you should leave now, Doctor. Alice needs her rest."

"Why, er, yes. Yes she does." Rudy agreed, casting an anxious glance at me. Why was he worried?

"Sleep tight, Alice..." he said, shutting the door again.

I was very confused. What was Rudy trying to tell me? I looked up at him nervously.

"I won't hurt you, Alice. Dr. Blairdorf, on the other hand..."

On the other hand what?

"He is...not right in the mind. He is not crazy enough to be a patient here, but he is not far from it. Always think twice before you do something he asks. He might be luring you into a trap."

With that, he left me feeling quite disoriented.

I woke to the radio blaring loudly from next-door. I kept my eyes closed for a while, hesitant to wake up and see something that would truly confirm my insanity. When my eyes eventually flickered open, I _was _shocked. Once more, I found Rudy sitting in the armchair next to the bed. I sat up hastily, pulling my sheets up to my shoulders. It was the 1920's, and it was disrespectful for women to flaunt their pajamas.

"Dr.- Dr. Blairdorf," I stammered, my voice cracking from my long, restless night. Rudy held up his index finger, a small smile on his strangely handsome face.

"Dear Alice," he muttered. "I told you to call me 'Rudy'." I blinked in shock, shrinking up against my pillow.

"I'm sorry," I replied, frazzled. "I just... I wasn't expecting anybody this early, actually." Rudy chuckled good-heartedly.

"Actually, Miss Alice," he corrected me, "It's almost noon." _Damn._ Why had they allowed me to sleep this late?

"Dr. Reilly told me that I had a 9 a.m. workshop," I mentioned. Feeling like quite an idiot, I stumbled out of my cot with my linens stilll wrapped tightly around my torso. Rudy grinned, his eyes twinkling.

"Don't worry about that, Alice," he consoled me. "The workshop is with _me_." I sighed in relief, collapsing back onto my bed.

"Oh," I exhaled. "Okay." Rudy rose quickly from his chair in a smooth motion that was much too agile for a man of his age. I stood up too, following his lead. When he noticed my confused look, he jerked his head towards the hallway.

"We are going down to the river to discuss some matters... that would not be suitable for lingering ears," he explained. "I'll leave you alone to dress. Meet me down by the rock when you're ready."  
He was gone in a flash, leaving me alone in the dark room with a hammering heart.


	8. James: Bumblebees

To my disgust, I was clothed in a quick sweater and slacks. It was ridiculous, really, the lengths that I had to go to under my human facade. To my pleasure, Rudy was covered up as well. He looked even more ridiculous, with a feathery toupee that threw his face into shadow. Naturally, he had to be more careful; he was the one actually interacting with the girl.  
He was too caught up in the girl's curious answers to notice me. How could he stand it? He was all alone, or at least he _thought _he was, yet he resisted her scent? His will power, however unnecessary, was impressive.

With the agility of a trapeze artist, I pulled myself up into a branch of a willow tree. I could hear their conversation clearly, as if they were right next to me. They were, in fact, fifty yards away sitting by the lake's shore. They looked like a grandfather and a granddaughter, simply enjoying the pleasant weather.

But they were so much more- and less- than that. He was a monster cloaked in beauty; she was a child, a silly human girl. She was crazy, he lusted for blood. A match not meant to be.

I had developed an unhealthy obsession with this human. Tracking her every movement, trying desperately to get her alone. But that meddling Blairdorf wouldn't give me a chance. He knew what I was, knew much too well what I had planned to do.

Daringly, I crept closer to the spot where they sat. I could hear every word they said, and I wasn't liking it at all.

"I have seen many horrible things at this asylum, and I am positive that you will see worse," whispered Rudy.

"Well, it can't be much worse than what I've seen at home," Alice laughed grimly.

Rudy didn't laugh. "I'm serious. There are dangerous people lurking anywhere, everywhere...patients and doctors alike."

"Well, they're as scared as me as I am of them, right?"

"No, those are bumblebees. These are people who..." He seemed to struggle for words. "These people thirst for blood. They will go by any means necessary to get it." Alice's smile faltered a bit, yet she still radiated happiness.

"People are a lot like bumblebees," she persisted, completely missing Rudy's ominous warning. It wasn't that she was simple-minded; the thought of blood-thirsty killers just didn't have an effect on her. I stifled a smirk at the thought of this. Some humans were so... _perplexing. _Or maybe it was just her.

"Yes, _people _are, Alice," Rudy agreed tentatively. "But the- creatures that I'm talking about... They're not people. Far from it, actually." What was this mental man doing? It would be different if a man warned Alice of what I was, but this was another one of my _kind_. It was a crime against the immortal to expose oneself like this, yet he was confiding in the innocent mind of a human girl. It was unjust.

"Well what are you talking about?" Alice demanded. She did not like to be in the dark.

"I'm talking about your safe-" Rudy began, playing with words.

"I don't give a damn," Alice interrupted. "You're toying around with me, I know it. I've had it with being lost." She stood up rather abruptly, shaking out her long raven hair.

"Alice, wait-"

"Just leave me alone! I don't want to hear about your fairytale creatures lurking in my bedroom! I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid!"

She started walking, quickly picking up the pace until she was running. Through her wall of anger, she somehow managed to get back to her room_. _

_26A._ _The one number that marks the rest of her life. _

She sat on her bed and stared at herself blankly in the mirror. Eons passed. She only came back to the present when she noticed two scarlet eyes gazing into the mirror, positioned directly behind her throat.


End file.
